Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

Oh yeah!

The doctor also asked me something that has shot to the top of my list of Favorite Questions I Have Ever Been Asked:

"Do you live in the woods?"

UPDATE

Now I really hope it isn't Lyme, because the magic cream that the doctor prescribed? My insurnace won't cover it. Ninety bucks. Ninety! For a little tiny tube!

I bet I know why...the drug is for excema, and usually you'd start treating that with hydrocortisone. The doc didn't want to give me hydrocortisone because I'd already tried that myself (I don't like going to the doctor, but I have no trouble self-medicating) and it was after that that the rash went from the size of a quarter to the size of a hockey puck. Maybe after the doctor gives a good medical reason for prescribing what she did, the insurance company will give me $40 of the $90 back, but judging by how the weasles handled the rat bite stuff, I'm not betting on it.

Remember the rat bite? A few months ago...just about a year after the bite...I was flexing my hand and *snap* I broke through the last big chunk of scar tissue. I can now curl the first knuckle of my index finger all the way to the third knuckle. Pretty exciting, although I still don't have a normal sense of touch.

I just realized, my medical history is almost as bizarre as the dog's.

Bedside manner

I went to the doctor today because I have a rash. (Actually, I went to the doctor because Victor's bothered by the fact that I've had a rash for six months and it is spreading but I haven't done anything about it. Role reversal.)

Anyway, when I showed the doctor the rash, she wrinkled her nose and said "Ew, that's weird."

Reminds me of the time I developed contact dermatitis from my wristwatch. (Remember those stupid cheap Swatches? I had one with an exposed battery.) After a few months I had a crusting rash, and I showed it to a nurse with whom I worked. He said "Oh, gross!"

The doctor wasn't totally unhelpful; she prescribed something I need to go back and pick up when the pharmancy isn't a total freaking zoo and took some blood to test for Lyme disease. (Which it better not be, because I don't want to have to admit that Victor was right in making me go.)

Happy holidays to me!

It's offical; I'm the only one in my department working the week between Christmas and New Year's. Ahh, the sweet sound of silence.

I told her to quit the boozing

My dog had an acute liver infection last spring that required some intense vet care, but she got better. The other day I took her in for her six month "let's make sure everything is ok" check (because she's an old dog, and he's had so many weird health problems).

I shouldn't go looking for trouble. But then, if I didn't get her checked out so obsessively, she'd probably have died back when she had the thrombocytopenia.

This isn't as bad, but her liver enzymes are out of whack again. She doesn't need to be hooked up to an IV in intensive care, she just needs a special diet and some milk thistle.

I hope that's all she needs. She's an old dog, but she doesn't know that. She's been a sick dog, but mostly she's oblivious to that, too. She's a mortal dog, and I have trouble accepting that.

Must be the neon sign over my head

Not too long ago I had to buy a present for a baby shower at work. I went to the mall and found a children's clothing store (where, as it happened, the clothes were all more expensive than anything I wear myself [bike clothes excepted, because yes, there is a huge difference between $40 bike shorts and $100 bike shorts, and every one of those six thousand pennies is worth it when you're on a bike for ten hours.].)

Anyway, I found a cute little outfit with a cute little hat and cute little socks, and I took it to the register line.

To the person at the head of the line, the clerk said "Are you a member of our frequent shopper club? Do you have your card so I can stamp it?"

To the woman in front of me, the clerk said "Are you on our e-mail list so you can get advance notice of our special sales?"

To me she said "Would you like a gift box?"

(I should have asked for the frequent buyer card, it turns out. Half the office is now pregnant.)

For the record...

...Nic made the Ned Braden joke last night, well before Dave Fay had it published in this morning's Washington TIMES.

And when the announcer mispronounced Maurice Richard's name, her jaw didn't drop. She almost dropped, then she sputtered, then she turned pink, then purple, then blurple, then finally shouted out something along the lines of What kind of idiot hockey announcer doesn't know how to pronounce Maurice Richard's name?

And I hate "The Hockey Song" too

I was not particulary impressed with last night's hockey game. By the time the ten fighting majors and seven game misconducts (plus the various minors) were doled out in the last two minutes, I was half-expecting to see Ned Braden doing a strip-tease at center ice.

Judging by the reaction of the crowd (if you can call the people who'd stuck around a crowd...maybe "throng" is more like it) I'm in the minority. Folks love the fights, don't they?

Frankly, I'd rather have seen the Capitals apply some of that intensity to the hockey part of the game, and maybe it wouldn't have been 4-2.

Perhaps it was my upbringing. Back in the '70's, when the bench-clearing brawls were a regularity (and I saw several), I happened to sit in a section with several older, more genteel hockey fans, like a retired RAF officer and his wife. The games that really got them excited? Montreal. When the Canadiens came to town I knew we were seeing something different and special. As a bloodthirsty kid, I don't know how much I appreciated it in 1976, but looking back now I realize my take-home message was to appreciate the Flying Frenchmen over Broad Street Bullies any day.

Speaking of the Habs, the worst insult to hockey history came during a trivia game. The question had something to do with which NHL player Alex Ovechkin had outscored in their first 100 games. When the arena PA announcer read the choices (Dino Ciccarelli, Wayne Gretzky, or Maurice Richard), he said "Maurice Rich-urd" (as in Richard Nixon) rather than "Rih-shard" (as in, well, Maurice Richard.) My jaw dropped. How can anyone involved in hockey not know how to say the Rocket's name?

All in all, an appalling evening.

I'm Big Pants People

Remember Kevin Meaney? He showed up on a lot of the talk show/comedy club shows we watched when I was in college, and my sister, brother, and I used to drop his lines into conversation all the time. It confused our parents.

This isn't about Kevin Meaney, but I was thinking about one of his bits, because I've had to pull out my big pants.

I have two wardrobes, the size I prefer to be, and the clothes I wear when I've been lax in my diet and/or exercise habits. The big pants are feeling snug. Since I can't wear sweats to work, I need to start looking at the diet and/or exercise.

And this is such a great time to be trying to eat carefully. Between now and New Year's Day we have 12 hockey games, Thanksgiving, the 12 family celebrations (with Polish foods) of Christmas, and New Year's Eve. The hoppin' john and collards I make for New Year's are about the healthiest thing I was planning on eating for the next six weeks.

How timely: today is day one of the Lean Plate Club Holiday Challenge. Perhaps I should do more than just read the columns this year.

On Friday, I'll be able to see in the dark!

I just finished cooking the butternut squash for Thursday's Three Sisters Stew. It struck me...with the squash and red pepper in the stew, the sweet potatoes, and the pumpkin pie, we'll be getting a boatload of beta-carotene on Thanksgiving.

We're also having lots of cruciferous vegetables. I don't want to speculate about what that's gonna do.

Coaches hate those turnovers

I've been thinking about what I want to do with the refinished basement. (No, it isn't done yet. I haven't even picked a contractor. But it isn't too early to plan.)

I'm thinking the rec room will have sort of a sports theme. I can hang up my Terps pennants, my Caps sticks, my Redskins posters, my Nationals team pictures. I can sit in my comfy chair and watch the games on the new tv and get beer from the new refrigerator.

Today I watched the Maryland-BC game while packing up boxes.

The new rec room will be well insulated. That's important, so that people upstairs, next door, and in the next county won't be able to hear my curses and my cries of anguish.

Or maybe I should ditch the idea of the tv, the comfy chair, and the beer fridge, and turn the room into a yoga studio. I need some calm.

Once a season

Once a season I have to pull out this memory:

That's me, thirty-some years ago, with my all-time hockey hero, Yvon Labre.

I pull it out now because Yvon happened to be sitting a couple of rows behind me at the game tonight. I'm considerably more shy now that I was when I was seven, but when I passed him after the second period I did say "Hello, Mr. Labre."

He was very nice, as always, but I didn't stick around to bug him. I'm sure he doesn't remember me. (I've met him several times with my dad, and I think he might recognize me in that context. The drawback to that context is that my dad, every ten years or so, brings up the picture, and then we all get to feel old.)

Dear Miss Manners

When you give somebody food, say leftovers from a party, in those plastic Gladware containers, do you expect to get them back as if they were real dishes, or is it more like foil or a plastic bag?

Thanksgiving

I do not have to make Thanksgiving dinner (number one on the list of things for which I am thankful). That doesn't stop me from pondering Thanksgiving recipes, though.

I stumbled upon this Wild Oats recipe site last week.

I don't see my dad and brother-in-law going for Roasted Turkey Breast with Garam Masala Rub and Citrus Spice Glaze or Coconut Sweet Potato Gratin with Honey Chipotle Cashews . But perhaps when the Thanksgiving leftovers are done, I can get Victor interested in White Cheddar and Zucchini Tamales with Creamy Chile Verde Salsa.

This. Is. An. Outrage.

Zimmerman Loses Out on Rookie Honor

Redskins Report

They lost. Didn't even put up much of a fight. Even though this cartoon is two years old, it's still relevent. Especially today!

Passing Fancy

UPDATE: Per ESPN.com, Brunell will be benched for the next game! Jason Campbell will get his first NFL start on Sunday against the Buccaneers.

Fear the Turtle

When I was growing up (a Terps fan from the day I was born), this is the Terps logo I remember best:

He looks pretty grumpy, but he's always been my favorite.

For awhile in the '80's I remember a meaner-looking Terp (and I have a vauge recollection of the slogan "You're in Snappin' Terp country,") but I couldn't find an example of that picture.

While I was at Maryland, we used two logos: a lame red-and-white stylised M (for "Maryland Momentum"), and this smiley Terappin:

...which was funny, because we really didn't have much to smile about then. The grumpy Terp would definitely been more appropriate.

I'm not sure when the logo changed again, but most of my current Maryland gear has this guy:

I suppose he is more aggressive, as befits a school with actual winning athletic teams.

Last night at the hockey game, I saw somebody wearing this hat:

Fear the Turtle, indeed.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army

Big Wheel

I was thinking today about the Big Wheel.

I don't remember exactly when I got mine, but it was an earlier model, the one without the brakes. My grandfather and my father put it together, somehow neglecting to attach the spring that clicked against the wheel to make the tick-tick-tick noise.

I was never clear why they left off the noisemaker; it wasn't like I could ride the thing in the house.

I found a way to be loud. There were holes in the back of the body for the adjustable seat, and I filled those holes with rocks. I sounded like a landslide when I rode around a corner.

I wonder if that's why I was the slowest kid on the block.

I am proof that people can change

I used to not eat cauliflower.

Actually, I used to not eat any vegetables. My mom even took me to the doctor when I was a kid, fretting because I wouldn't eat vegetables. He said "She'll outgrow it." And obviously, what with that vegetarian flirtation, I have outgrown it. (I do remember mom commenting on that a few years ago when she saw me order a portabello sandwich instead of a burger.)

Cauliflower, though, I couldn't stand. But it kept showing up in things, especially Indian food, and finally I decided that if I was going to be a vegetarian, I was limiting my diet enough without excluding particular vegetables.* So I kept eating cauliflower in spite of not liking it, and now it isn't my favorite vegetable on the planet, but it's ok. Some ways, I actually enjoy it.

Yogurt. I never liked yogurt, either, but I do like probiotics. And calcium. I started eating a carton of yogurt a day, and after a few months, I found I didn't mind it so much.

And booze. How many people actually like the sting of alcohol when they first try it?

That's a joke. I have always liked alcohol. My uncle used to dip my pacifier in whisky.

So I decided, I need to apply this ability to overcome dislikes to tea.

Not because it's healthy, but because at work, coffee is 25 cents a cup, but tea, inexplicably, is free.

*I think I only lasted about two months as an actual vegetarian. I'm just not committed enough to work around other people, really.

Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking

This morning at work I told a friend of mine that I stood in line for nearly an hour to vote last night.

"That's great!" she said.

Uh...huh?

"Isn't it great that so many people cared enough to participate?"

Well, I was going to bitch about the stupid touch-screen computers and people who don't bother to read the ballot questions until they actually are standing in the booth, but yeah, I guess there's that, too.

Out to lunch

Last night I made myself a sandwich for lunch today and left it in the refrigerator. Because I needed to leave work early to meet with a contractor, I didn't bother to pack lunch, I figured I'd just grab it when I got home.

Mid-morning, I had e-mail from Victor:

BTW, I took the half-sandwich in the
refrigerator. I should have asked--I'm sorry if you were saving that.

Ok, he gets points for apologizing. But still. He knew he didn't make it. So I asked him: What, did you think the Sandwich Fairy came last night and left it for you?

Still shaking my head about this one, I mentioned it later to my sister. I love her response:

OMG, can you send the Sandwich Fairy to my house?!

I am a bad influence

I'm going to try some remote blogging. I have a bit of a story, but not the whole thing, so I'm asking my sister to fill in the details.

Saturday night while we were babysitting, we ordered dinner from the pizza/sub place near my sister's house. (That's a story by itself, for another day.) My nephew Hoss only ate one slice of his pizza before he was ready to go to bed.

I put the rest of the pizza in the refrigerator and showed him where I was putting it, and aparently I said something about him having it for breakfast. This is where the story gets fuzzy, because I didn't hear my sister tell it...but it sounds like my brother-in-law wasn't pleased when Hoss got up Sunday morning looking for his pizza.

Happiness is

Life is good.

I'm not being factitious for a change. I have been in a bad mood, that one-frayed-nerve left-with-everyone-jumping-on-it mood, for the past few days. Stressed about work. Stressed about the house. Not being as careful as I need to be with some health stuff and feeling crappy because of it.

Today was my grandmother's 84th birthday, and the family gathered for her party. I left all my food prep to the last minute and my ratatouille didn't turn out well. I left the house in a bad mood.

But then I spent the day with my family, aunts and uncles and cousins, people in from out of town, little kids I used to carry on my back all grown up and having their own kids...

I realized on the way home that my mood could not be better.

Thing One and Thing Two

We're babysitting my sister's kids today. I mentioned it to my father last night, and he kind of chuckled. "All three?" he asked.

Yes, all three.

"Good luck."

Oh, I have a big bag of stuff to occupy them, I said.

He chucked again. "Good luck."

I just hate to scrape the windshield

I had a dream last night that I'd moved back to Florida.

I have no actual intention to do that, even if they do have hockey now. It probably has to do with the weather change...I'm less tolerant of cold than I used to be, and by way of proof, it feels like it's cold already. (Why, when I was a kid I never wore a winter coat before Christmas.)

Moving south is not the answer. I don't like hurricanes and boiled peanuts.

Is there any place with a population over a million, not subject to weather disasters, liberal politics, and a low temperature above 50 degrees?

Día de los Muertos

Several years ago my brother lived in Chicago, and I visited him there late one fall, a few weeks after our grandfather had died. My brother hadn't made it home for the funeral, and as sort of a tribute to Dziadzia we had gone to a carry-out for kielbasa and pierogis.

Also that weekend we went to an art exhibit that some of my brother's friends were in, an exhibit with a Día de los Muertos theme. I didn't know anything about the feast specifically, I just assumed it was Mexican Halloween, Day of the Dead.

My brother lived in a neighborhood that sort of straddled the Ukrainian Village and an Hispanic area, and before I left we ate in a little neighborhood restaurant that was all decorated with whimsical skeletons.

A few years ago, here in D.C., I went to a Mexican restaurant that had been decorated with marzipan skulls and papel picado banners. That reminded me of the Chicago trip, and since I now had the Internet, I looked up Día de los Muertos.

I was rather delighted to realize that our Polish dinner for Dziadzia was in the Day of the Dead spirit, although we should have left a beer for him.

Here is how Mexonline.com explains the holiday:

Every year, on November 1st (All Saints Day) and 2nd (All Souls Day), something unique takes place in many areas of Mexico: Day of the Dead festivities. While it's strange for most of us to accept the fact that "death" and "festivities" can go hand-in-hand, for most Mexicans, the two are intricately entwined. This all stems from the ancient indigenous peoples of Mexico (Purepecha, Nahua, Totonac and Otomí) who believed that the souls of the dead return each year to visit with their living relatives - to eat, drink and be merry. Just like they did when they were living.

I've never celebrated Day of the Dead...I suspect the cops would get a call if I tried hanging out at the cemetery for a picnic all night, and I don't really have room in the house for an altar...but I'm fascinated by it.

Here are a few of the articles I have found online:

Mexico Connect

Mary J. Andrade

AZCentral.com

Red Red Wine

Red wine molecule helps mice live longer

I wonder if it will work for rats.

I of course have been conducting my own one-person clinical trial in humans for several years now.